


i breathed you in

by gardenofstars (crystallizedcherry)



Series: we have rewritten our stars [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 23:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14704353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystallizedcherry/pseuds/gardenofstars
Summary: Somewhere in their run together, they were each other's oxygen.





	i breathed you in

**Author's Note:**

> Avengers and all of the characters and the elements are properties owned by Marvel Studios, all of the copyrights are the creators’. There is no commercial benefit in the making, the objection of the writing is just for entertainment purpose only.

The only liquor that could get him drunk was her scent. On the afterglow, on after-mission moments, emanating from the battle-worn body. On the nights she told him about the training days, on the daylight when she plastered him with dry kisses.

And when she whispered some pillowtalk, he knew he did not ever get enough of this. This drunkenness. She was open to him, bare, all of her past spread on her lips and even though her body remained motionless to the raking nimble fingers of his, he was all ears. She was not someone like this to others. She was all his just like he was all hers when this kind of time came; he was high.

"You can sleep. This story can be a lullaby too."

"Not when you eyes all open, Nat. I'm here."

She was studying his face, dim yellow light failed to sink him in. He gathered all the remaining light, turned it to be the open sky, vastness, field of hope for her, just in his eyes.

"There was a time," she paused, index fingers tracing his nose. She could feel him breathe her in. "When, 'I didn't kill anybody today' was a consolation, self-praising, self-prize for me in the middle of a night."

She wore all his light, thus she continued, because there was enough hope above all of this red and black past, "And I was wondering what kind of kindness I could do the next day."

"For instance?"

She inhaled. But he was the one taking the scent in. "Leaving a boy with his mother, his dad remained the only target. Slipping in the darkness, making them assume that it was cardiac arrest."

“And later, year by year, you still save the world.” He planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

Natasha chuckled, “My life couldn’t be summed up that simply. There’s no certain black or white. I thought I have taught you this, Steve.”

“I often see white in you,” he replied, still holding her in his arms. She breathed out a mixture of history, tears, pride, joy, roses with thorns, bullets in the sand, rocky valley, quiet lake. Everything that made her to be was in her lungs, some were residues, she let them out, only to be his oxygen. He was proud to be surrounded by the air of her _was_ and _had been_ , and that was made who he was now; a part of her. "But you haven't told me anything about something."

"About what?"

"You did let me go." The phrase rang softly to his soul. _Let me go_. It usually marked an everlasting separation, a goodbye without any next hello. This was distinct. “In the hangar.”

“It was not a letting-go.”

“What should it be?”

“It was letting you to be _more_ part of me.” Natasha shifted impossibly closer to him, wrapped her arms around his torso, and inhaled his scent from the crook of his neck. “I adore you since long ago, when I still thought that you were the white and I was the black, when our world was still separated by how we viewed what lie was. And that time, I understood, that we could lean to each other, and we filled the void to each other.”

He kissed her as an answer, and when he closed his eyes, from the back of his eyelids, he saw gray. He inhaled another mixture again, the smell of blood, rusty building where she had been trained to be an assassin, scent of roses and lilies of her perfume to help her disguising herself, smell of gunpowder. But now, as her kiss went deeper and wilder, tongue met tongue, he found love, as cliché as it was. There was him in the scent. There was their history mingled with adoration to each other, there was more than just _I’m with you_ or _I’ll run with you to the ends of the world_.

This was their run, their another history. This was not only feet that ran together in the battlefield or tangled to each other in the bedsheet. This was two lives creating various scents together, liveliness shared between breaths, and that was how they breathed for life.


End file.
